On language

 Came across an interesting and witty article recently. No, really.

In wokese, if you say some sort of discrimination exists, you have to say it is “systemic.” It’s just a moral demand that if you talk about one thing, you also have to gesture toward another—but it pretends to be grammar. You do not actually have to explain how the system functions as a system in a way that removes the agency of the actors within it, and indeed you would be messing up the syntax if you did. This is sort of like the previously popular wokese term “problematic,” which unlike its English equivalent does not mean that the person using it intends to expound on what the problem is.

In Britain, they know they have a class system, whether they like it or not. We have on in the US as well, but it's hidden. Which means that when the aristocracy takes steps to keep the proles in their place, no one wants to say that that's what they're doing. And language is, as always, one of the prime ways of accomplishing that.

Oh well

 Bad luck on my part. I  went to a place where the bus didn't run after 6:30 and didn't start to suspect anything until well, well after seven. Maybe bad planning that I didn't look this up beforehand, but this place really should have some later service.

Ah well, at least I've been relaxing since I got home.

All this to say, what's it to you?

Gone

 The state of being neighbors in an apartment building is an involuntary condition. It's driven by the need for shelter and the landlord's judgment on who's an acceptable tenant. Still, sometimes you wind up with neighbors whom you actively enjoy living near. If you are that lucky, it's a shame when they have to leave. Especially if that departure is highly abrupt. Especially, especially if it's under conditions that strike you as unjust.

More than that I won't say in this forum. I'll be available to talk about it in some other, though.

Some dream description ahead. Apologies.

 The other night I dreamed that I walked into a room of my apartment, not necessarily the one I live in now. There was broken glass on the floor. Which made sense because the window suddenly had a great jagged hole in it. I flicked the switch, but the light wouldn't turn on, although I tried and tried.

What does it mean? Maybe something, maybe nothing. Does it point to a certain amount of anxiety? Well, not having any would be somewhat unusual. To be sure, though, it wasn't a "wake up screaming" situation. In essence I just remember it because I happened to have a full bladder at the time.

Also, since I started writing this, I've managed to stop my router battery from beeping. So I seem to be capable enough in real life.

Out back there

 

Kangaroos, even putting aside their marsupial attributes, aren't quite like anything that lives outside of Australia. Their heads are somewhat deerlike, but the way they get around is of course more reminiscent of rabbits, especially jackrabbits. But much bigger. And they're impressively tough, as well. How much of this is an adaptation to the harsh environment of the Outback, I wonder.

Failure to communicate

I recently came across a quote something along the lines of  "White people shouldn't be writing POC characters." I'm not sure how widespread this opinion is. Full disclosure #1: The person retweeting it was not in agreement. It's shortsighted anyway. White people who have James Baldwin quotes on their Instagram might well feel constrained by this edict. White people who lock their car doors while at a drive-thru restaurant with a black cashier, not so much. 

Somehow reading about some of the controversies surrounding <a href="https://quillette.com/2020/09/18/the-dishonest-and-misogynistic-hate-campaign-against-j-k-rowling/">JK Rowling</a> had me thinking along the same lines. Full disclosure #2: I haven't read the book Troubled Blood myself. The early Harry Potter books are the only thing I've read by her. But it does sound like a lot of anti-fans, haters, call them what you will are distorting what the book is about in order to stoke outrage. And maybe some people who used to like her have fallen out with her because of things she said. Fine, that's their right. But you can, you know, just kind of leave it there. Not everything has to be a crusade.

Breathe

 After getting through the entire spring without any real symptom of my allergies, it's a little annoying that they came back for the fall. I'd sort of hoped I had outgrown them. Maybe that was unrealistic, though.

Last night the sniffling and sneezing just wouldn't end, regardless of what I took. So tonight is an improvement on that score, anyway.

Separating the wheat

 A while ago I found out about a market soliciting short stories on a particular theme. Tonight I finished―blessedly―the first draft. It's about 1,000 words over the upper word limit. This isn't as huge a problem as you might think. In fact it's good. The whole thing needs to be overhauled, and I expect to lose more verbiage than I make up, even though I'll be doing both. So it's kind of a lucky break.

Of course the real lucky break is the fact that the deadline isn't until the end of October.

Smells like teen DOOM!

 I just watched Carrie tonight. Pretty enjoyable, on a scary movie level. While high school settings may have gotten more common as time went on, and teenage protagonists in horror movies are certainly a popular thing, having a horror movie largely take place at prom is a pretty unusual movie. De Palma, to his credit, embraces the idea, showing it in all its tacky mid-seventies glory.

Maybe the weirdest thing is the "based on the novel by" credit. Because when this movie came out, no one knew or really cared who Stephen King was. Just another name from the paperback racks.

Magic hat trick

 Probably the last on this theme for a while, but that doesn't mean forever.

An author named Michael Penkas wrote a story called "Coffee with Count Presto". It's probably hard to find because Penkas is a newish, mostly uncollected author. But anyway, it's about a man who receives an invitation to a private show with a magician named...well, you can guess. Presto is persona non grata among his colleagues because he's revealed his secrets. In fact, the other magicians track him to his coffee shop sit-down with the narrator and wreak terrible vengeance. 

The story is funny and maybe a little creepy. But it's very much fiction. Magicians don't want some snot jumping in front of the stage and pointing out where they hide the rabbits, but in principle they're not bothered by you understanding how they do what they do.

This has become clearer to me recently as I've been reading Sleights of Mind: What the Neuroscience of Magic Reveals About Our Everyday Deceptions by Stephen L. Macknik and Susana Martinez-Conde. The book breaks down some common stage illusions and explains how they relate to our senses and perception. The short version is that in most cases, the "secrets of magic" come down to the limits of the human nervous system and the fact that you can't pay attention to absolutely everything.

As to why magicians―and a lot of them talk to the authors―don't mind their secrets being revealed, it's a matter of personal pride. They don't need or want to hide behind a cloak of mysticism. They're not court wizards. The thrill is in getting past the guard. They want you to understand the rules, to know that a trick is coming, and still be fooled.

Early & often

 Today was a primary day, so I went out and voted. It was my first time this year voting in person. For the Presidential primary I got a mail in ballot because in 2016 there was some kind of venue change in the primary vote and I had to go looking for the place, which I didn't want to deal with again. COVID was a minor consideration, except for the obvious fact that it wind up pushing the primary back by two months.

I can attest that the the page we used to sign has gone paperless, which seems counterproductive since it just gives them a screen they have to keep wiping off. And there's a pen you use for that which you use the other end of for actual voting. This you throw in a plastic bag at the end of the process. Said process looks like it has become more awkward and less friendly, which sadly you learn to expect.

You don't...you don't ask why

 

Here's a fun little read. In two parts, it's an X-ray examination of Roxy Music's "For Your Pleasure", the song, with a little about For Your Pleasure, the album. Rich topics, both.

The song is the final track on the album, and For Your Pleasure, the album is one of only two RM albums to feature Brian Eno, the other being their self-titled debut. That means this is the very dramatic end of Eno's tenure.

Why did he leave? Or alternately, why did Ferry fire him? The anonymous author cites the theory that "Eno’s super-hyped sex life" was responsible, but he rejects it himself. And rightly so. That seems like it would only be an issue for Ferry if Eno hit on Ferry's girlfriend, successfully or not. And do you think everyone could have kept dish like that to themselves for all these years?

No, the divorce was more likely caused by the parties no longer seeing eye to eye. Roxy had started as a certain kind of band, one that Eno could claim involvement in despite his rawness as a musician. (If a good musician is defined by what he can do and a great one by what he's willing to try, Eno was great a long time before he was good.) But the band changed, and he changed, becoming less the wild showman of Roxy and his solo debut Here Come the Warm Jets. If it's a sad ending, it might be a necessary one for both. 

Now what's not addressed in these essays at all is the role of Judi Dench, whose voice is the last one heard on the song and the album. When the album was recorded she was mostly known as a TV and theatre actress, although a few years earlier she had played Titania in Peter Hall's film of A Midsummer Night's Dream, as seen here.

So how did she get to be involved? It's not something I've ever heard addressed, but it seems like there could be a good story there.

Huh.

 

This is a preview of the Batman movie that's coming out next year. I guess you could say they have my attention, but not really my approval.

Obviously, Robert Pattinson was cast for a reason. Namely, that no matter how much you build him up, he's still going to look sickly. That's why you turn to the sexxxy vampire.

Even more obviously, David Fincher's Seven was a model at every level of creation here. The Riddler's brain teaser crimes have in the past generally not made you wonder which severed body parts he has on-hand, but maybe that's changing. To top it off the trailer is scored with one of the few Nirvana songs that's actually as depressing as the stereotype of the band. Someone's betting on there being a demand for meticulously recreated 90's grimdark.

Ironically, the original Seven's release coincided with Batman movies attempting to go back to a campier 60's approach. It didn't really work, because that kind of approach requires a light touch, which Joel Schumacher didn't have. Still, maybe in another 10 years or so.

H2O yeah that's right

 In terms of the reservoir and in terms of healthy plant life we've been in need of rain, and a lot of it. We got some today. Enough to help.

Better for me that it wasn't too hard or too long. Today was my laundry day, and it's never fun to take clothes out of the drier and head out into cold, bitter rain. And my timing was okay, as I just had to go across the street and wait a couple of minutes for the bus.

So, a balance.